Saudi Prince Forced to Share Wife With Father THEN Jesus Saves Them
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There were stories, whispers really, about other family members who had disappeared or been silenced when they opposed him.
Cousins who had questioned his decisions and were suddenly sent away on permanent diplomatic missions.
An uncle who had spoken against one of his policies and died in a mysterious accident.
I told myself these were just palace rumors.
the kind of gossip that swirls around any center of power.
But deep down, I was beginning to understand that my father was not the man I thought he was.
He was not driven by faith or justice or love for his family.
He was driven by an insatiable appetite for control and power.
He saw people, even his own children, as positions to be used for his benefit.
the Islamic principles he claimed to uphold were simply tools he wielded to justify his desires.
Ask yourself this question.
What would you do if you discovered that everything you believed about someone you loved and respected was a lie? That realization was slowly dawning on me.
But I was not prepared for how far my father’s corruption would reach into my own life.
I thought that my position as his son and heir would protect my wife and me from his cruelty.
I believed that the happiness we had found together was safe from his interference.
I was wrong about everything.
September 12th, 2018 started like any other day in the palace.
I performed my morning prayers, had breakfast with my wife, and reviewed some documents related to a new infrastructure project.
Around noon, a servant approached me with a message that my father wanted to see me in his private chambers immediately.
Such summons were not unusual, so I thought nothing of it, as I made my way through the familiar quarters to his wing of the palace.
When I entered his chambers, my father was seated behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable.
He dismissed his adviserss with a wave of his hand, and we were alone.
The silence stretched uncomfortably long before he finally spoke.
His words hit me like a physical blow.
He told me in the same tone he might use to discuss the weather that he had decided my wife would become his concubine.
She was to move to his quarters within the week and serve him as he saw fit.
I stood there in complete shock, unable to process what I had just heard.
This was my father, my king, the man I had respected and obeyed my entire life.
Surely he was testing me somehow or speaking hypothetically about some political situation.
But when I looked into his eyes, I saw only cold determination.
He was completely serious.
When I tried to protest to remind him that she was my wife, he cut me off with a harsh laugh.
He quoted verses from the Quran about a father’s authority over his household and reminded me that as king his word was law.
He told me that Islamic Jewish prudence gave him the right to do whatever he deemed necessary for the good of the kingdom and that my personal feelings were irrelevant.
“My wife was beautiful and intelligent,” he said, and he wanted her for himself.
The room felt like it was spinning around me.
I wanted to scream, to strike him, to demand justice, but I knew that any sign of rebellion would result in immediate imprisonment or death.
In Saudi Arabia, challenging the king’s authority is treason, and being his son would not protect me from the consequences.
I had seen what happened to others who opposed him.
they simply disappeared.
I asked him how he could justify such an action under Islamic law, grasping for any argument that might change his mind.
He smiled coldly and explained that since he was the ultimate religious authority in our kingdom, his interpretation of Islamic law was final.
He cited historical examples of caiffs and kings who had taken wives from their subordinates when it served their purposes.
He reminded me that the prophet Muhammad himself had married the divorced wife of his adopted son, proving that family relationships could be rearranged when Allah willed it.
When I left his chambers, I felt like I was walking through a nightmare.
How could I tell my wife that the man who was supposed to protect our family was about to destroy it? How could I explain that our three years of happiness meant nothing to him? I found her in our private garden reading a book and enjoying the afternoon sun.
She looked up at me with such love and trust that I nearly broke down right there.
I told her everything and I watched the color drain from her face as she absorbed the reality of our situation.
She asked if there was anything we could do, any appeal we could make, any escape route available to us.
I had to tell her the truth that I was still struggling to accept myself.
We were trapped.
My father held absolute power and we had no choice but to comply or face death.
The next few days were the longest of my life.
My wife moved to a guest room as we both tried to prepare mentally for what was coming.
We barely spoke because every conversation led back to our impossible situation.
She would cry quietly when she thought I wasn’t looking.
And I would lie awake at night planning elaborate revenge scenarios that I knew I could never carry out.
I threw myself into Islamic prayers with desperate intensity, begging Allah to intervene and stop this injustice.
I spent hours in the mosque prostrating myself and reciting every verse I could remember about justice and protection of the innocent.
I consulted with several imams carefully describing our situation in hypothetical terms hoping they would give me some religious argument I could use against my father.
Instead, every imam I spoke with confirmed my father’s authority.
They explained that earthly rulers were appointed by Allah and that questioning their decisions was tantamount to questioning God’s will.
One elderly imam told me that sometimes Allah tests our faith by allowing difficult things to happen and our job is to submit and trust that he knows best.
Another suggested that perhaps my attachment to my wife was too strong and that this trial would help me focus more completely on my religious duties.
These conversations left me feeling more hopeless than ever.
The very faith I had been raised to believe in was being used to justify the destruction of my family.
Every prayer I offered seemed to bounce off the ceiling and return unanswered.
The Islamic teachings that were supposed to provide comfort and guidance felt hollow and meaningless when applied to my real situation.
A week after my father’s announcement, my wife moved to his quarters.
I was forced to maintain normal appearances, attending state functions and carrying out my royal duties while my world collapsed around me.
Palace staff who had served our family for years looked at me with pity they tried to hide.
Some seemed to approve, nodding knowingly as if this was simply the natural order of things.
Look inside your own heart right now and imagine having to smile and make polite conversation while the person you love most is being systematically destroyed by someone you trusted completely.
Every night I would see my father’s satisfied expression at dinner, knowing what he was taking from me in private.
Every morning I would catch glimpses of my wife in the corridors, watching her become more withdrawn and broken with each passing day.
The Islamic prayers that had once given structure and meaning to my life became empty rituals.
I went through the motions because stopping would raise suspicions.
But I felt nothing.
The God I had worshiped my entire life seemed either powerless to help us or completely indifferent to our suffering.
After months of desperate prayers and consultations with religious authorities, I was forced to accept a terrible truth.
Islam had no answer for my situation except submission to injustice.
After months of watching my wife suffer in silence and receiving no answers from Islamic prayers, I reached a point of complete desperation.
The traditional solutions had failed me entirely.
Every imam I consulted, every verse I memorized, every prayer I offered seemed to lead nowhere but deeper into hopelessness.
It was during those dark winter nights of 2018 that I began to do something that could have cost me my life.
I started researching other religions.
The palace had strict internet monitoring, but I had learned ways to access certain sites without detection during my years of managing various government projects.
Late at night when the rest of the palace slept, I would lock myself in my private office and search for anything that might offer hope.
I read about Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, and various philosophical systems.
But nothing resonated with me until I stumbled across Christian websites.
The first thing that struck me about Christianity was how different Jesus seemed from every religious figure I had ever studied.
In Islam, we were taught that Jesus was a prophet.
But we knew very little about his actual teachings or personality.
As I read the gospels for the first time, I was amazed by story after story of Jesus defending the oppressed, protecting women from abuse, and standing up to corrupt religious leaders.
In Matthew’s gospel, I read about Jesus confronting the Pharisees for their hypocrisy and their abuse of power.
In John’s gospel, I found the story of the woman caught in adultery where Jesus protected her from men who wanted to stone her to death.
These stories spoke directly to my situation in ways that Islamic teachings never had.
Here was a religious leader who actually defended victims instead of demanding their submission to injustice.
I began spending hours each night reading Christian testimonies online.
I found story after story of people who had been in impossible situations and found supernatural help through faith in Jesus Christ.
Former Muslims shared accounts of dramatic interventions, protection from persecution, and miraculous escapes from oppressive circumstances.
At first, I dismissed these as exaggerations or outright lies, but the sheer number of similar stories began to make me wonder.
What captivated me most was the Christian concept of a personal relationship with God.
In Islam, Allah felt distant and unapproachable, someone to fear and obey, but never to question or approach with intimate concerns.
The idea that Jesus actually wanted to hear about my personal problems and cared about my individual suffering was completely foreign to everything I had been taught.
Islamic theology emphasized submission and acceptance of whatever Allah decreed.
But Christianity seemed to encourage believers to bring their requests and even their complaints directly to God.
I discovered Christian teachings about justice that were radically different from what I had learned in Islamic Jewish prudence.
Where Islamic law seemed to always favor those in authority, Christian teaching consistently sided with victims of oppression.
Jesus himself had said that whatever we do to the least of these, we do to him.
The idea that God identified with victims rather than with powerful rulers was revolutionary to my thinking.
But reading about Christianity was incredibly dangerous.
In Saudi Arabia, converting from Islam is punishable by death, and even possessing Christian materials can result in severe punishment.
I had to be extremely careful about my internet searches and reading habits.
I used various techniques to hide my digital footprints and always cleared my browser history completely.
The fear of discovery was constant.
But my desperation for answers was stronger than my fear.
After several weeks of secret research, I made a decision that terrified me.
I decided to share what I was learning with my wife.
She had become so withdrawn and depressed that I was genuinely worried about her mental health.
When we did manage to have private conversations, she would speak about feeling completely abandoned by God and questioning everything we had been taught about faith and justice.
One evening in late November, I found her sitting alone in the small sitting room adjacent to our former bedroom.
My father was away on a diplomatic trip which gave us a rare opportunity to talk privately.
I sat down beside her and told her that I had been researching other religions, specifically Christianity.
Her initial reaction was pure terror.
She reminded me that what I was doing could get us both killed and she begged me to stop before someone discovered my activities.
But when I began sharing some of the specific things I had learned about Jesus, her fear gradually gave way to curiosity.
I told her about Jesus’s teachings on marriage and how he had defended the sanctity of the relationship between husband and wife.
I shared stories of how he had protected women from abuse and stood against corrupt religious authorities.
For the first time in months, I saw a spark of hope return to her eyes.
We began studying Christian materials together in complete secrecy.
We would wait until the palace was quiet, then read passages from the Bible and Christian testimonies on my hidden internet connection.
We had to be incredibly careful, taking turns, keeping watch, and always being ready to hide what we were doing if anyone approached.
The more we learned about Christianity, the more we began to understand that our situation was not something we had to simply accept as God’s will.
Christian teaching suggested that God actually opposed injustice and worked to protect victims.
The idea that we could actually pray for deliverance and expect God to respond was completely foreign to our Islamic upbringing.
But it began to offer us hope we had not felt in months.
Ask yourself this question.
Have you ever been so desperate that you were willing to risk everything for even the possibility of hope? That was where we found ourselves as we delve deeper into Christian faith.
We knew that what we were doing was dangerous beyond measure.
But we also knew that continuing to live in our current situation was slowly destroying both of us.
We were about to discover that some risks are worth taking when they lead to truth.
By December of 2018, my wife and I had been secretly studying Christian materials for over a month.
We had read countless testimonies of Muslims who had found Jesus Christ and experienced miraculous interventions in their lives.
These stories filled us with hope, but we still struggled with the enormity of what it would mean to actually pray to Jesus.
In Islamic teaching, calling on anyone other than Allah is sherk, the unforgivable sin.
We both knew that what we were contemplating could damn us eternally according to everything we had been taught our entire lives.
But our situation had become unbearable.
My father’s treatment of my wife was growing worse by the day.
She would return to our brief secret meetings with new bruises that she tried to hide and her spirit was being systematically broken.
I could see her losing weight, losing hope, losing the very essence of who she was.
The vibrant, intelligent woman I had married was disappearing before my eyes, and I felt completely powerless to protect her.
During our clandestine study sessions, we kept returning to the promises we read in the Bible.
Jesus had said that whoever calls on his name will be saved.
He promised to hear the prayers of those who are oppressed and to deliver them from their enemies.
These weren’t abstract theological concepts to us anymore.
They were potential lifelines in our drowning situation.
But making the leap from reading about these promises to actually acting on them felt like stepping off a cliff.
The breaking point came on October 3rd, 2018.
My wife had been with my father for nearly 3 weeks at that point.
And she came to me that evening more broken than I had ever seen her.
She could barely speak, but through her tears, she managed to tell me that she didn’t think she could survive much longer.
She said she had been praying to Allah constantly, begging for death to release her from the torment, but even that mercy was being denied.
That night, after she had gone back to my father’s quarters, I found myself completely alone with my despair.
I had tried everything within my Islamic faith.
I had consulted with the most learned religious scholars in the kingdom.
I had performed extra prayers, given increased charity, and sought spiritual guidance from every available source.
Nothing had worked.
If anything, my situation had gotten worse.
I knelt on my prayer rug, as I had thousands of times before.
But this time, I wasn’t facing toward Mecca.
Instead, I found myself looking up toward heaven, toward a God I wasn’t even sure existed.
At 3:00 am, in the darkness of my room, I spoke words that I never thought would leave my lips.
I said, “Jesus, if you’re real, and if you really do care about justice like the Bible says, please help us.
” The moment I said those words, I felt something I had never experienced in all my years of Islamic prayer.
It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming, but it was unmistakable.
I felt heard.
For the first time in months of desperate prayers, I had the distinct impression that someone was actually listening to me.
I continued praying, telling Jesus about our situation, about my wife’s suffering, about my complete helplessness to protect her.
I found myself confessing sins I had never acknowledged before.
I admitted that I had been prideful, that I had looked down on people beneath my social station, that I had been complicit in systems that oppressed others.
I told Jesus that if he was willing to save us from this situation, I would give him my entire life.
I promised that we would serve him no matter what it cost us, even if it meant giving up our royal positions and wealth.
As I prayed, I felt an incredible sense of peace begin to replace the anxiety and rage that had consumed me for months.
It wasn’t that my circumstances had changed, but something inside me had shifted.
I no longer felt completely alone in this battle.
I had the sense that powerful forces were now involved on our behalf.
Forces that my father’s earthly authority could not touch.
The next morning, I waited anxiously for an opportunity to speak privately with my wife.
When I finally had a chance to tell her about my prayer experience, her reaction surprised me.
Instead of the fear I expected, I saw relief in her eyes.
She told me that she had been having similar thoughts about calling on Jesus, but had been too afraid to act on them.
She said that during the darkest moments with my father, she had found herself silently crying out for Jesus to help her, even though she didn’t understand why.
That afternoon, we prayed together for the first time as believers in Jesus Christ.
We knelt together in our former bedroom and surrendered our lives completely to him.
We asked Jesus to forgive our sins, to save our souls, and to deliver us from the impossible situation we faced.
We told him that we wanted to belong to him regardless of the cost.
The change in both of us was immediate and dramatic.
The hopelessness that had characterized our conversations for months was replaced by a quiet confidence that God was going to work on our behalf.
We still didn’t know how or when, but we had absolute certainty that our prayers had been heard and would be answered.
We began reading the Bible openly in our private moments.
No longer driven by mere curiosity, but by a genuine hunger to understand our new faith.
Over the following days, we both experienced what we later learned.
Christians call the peace that passes understanding.
Despite our external circumstances remaining the same, we were no longer consumed by anxiety and despair, we had placed our situation in the hands of someone who was more powerful than even the king of Saudi Arabia.
We also began to receive what seemed like divine guidance about practical matters.
ideas would occur to us about escape routes, about people who might help us, about timing and resources that hadn’t crossed our minds before.
It was as if our minds had been opened to see possibilities that had always existed, but were previously invisible to us.
Look inside your own heart right now and remember a time when you felt completely overwhelmed by circumstances beyond your control.
That feeling of helplessness was exactly where we had been living for months.
But from the moment we genuinely called on Jesus Christ, everything began to change.
Not immediately in our external circumstances, but in our hearts and minds and spirits.
God was already working on our deliverance before we even finished praying.
Within days of our surrender to Jesus Christ, things began happening that could only be described as miraculous.
The first sign came just 3 days after our prayer together.
My father, who had never been sick a day in his life that I could remember, suddenly fell ill with a mysterious condition that left him bedridden and largely incapacitated.
The palace physicians were baffled by his symptoms, which included severe weakness, disorientation, and an inability to make clear decisions.
This illness was not life-threatening, but it was debilitating enough that he could no longer maintain his normal level of control over palace affairs.
For the first time in months, my wife was able to return to our quarters because my father was too weak to summon her.
The relief on her face when she walked through our door was something I will never forget.
We both understood immediately that this was no coincidence.
God was creating space for us to plan our escape.
During my father’s illness, other developments began unfolding that seemed orchestrated by an invisible hand.
International human rights organizations, which had been relatively quiet about Saudi Arabia’s internal affairs, suddenly began focusing attention on our kingdom’s treatment of women and political prisoners.
foreign governments that had maintained friendly diplomatic relationships with my father started applying pressure regarding various human rights violations.
The timing of this increased scrutiny was remarkable because it coincided exactly with our desperate prayers for deliverance.
News outlets that had never shown interest in Saudi internal politics began running expose articles about the royal family’s abuse of power.
While none of these reports mentioned our specific situation, they created an atmosphere of international accountability that had never existed before.
Most surprisingly, people within the palace itself began approaching me with offers of help.
A senior security officer whom I had known for years, but never considered particularly trustworthy came to me privately and revealed that he was a secret Christian.
He told me that he had been praying for an opportunity to help fellow believers and that God had shown him our situation.
This man had access to security schedules, travel documents, and escape routes that would have been impossible for us to obtain on our own.
Another unexpected ally emerged in the form of my father’s personal physician.
This doctor had been treating my father for years and had apparently witnessed enough of his cruelty to develop serious moral concerns.
When my father’s illness began, the physician approached me and suggested that my father’s condition might require extended treatment at a specialized medical facility outside the country.
He offered to recommend that my father be transferred to a clinic in Europe, which would remove him from the palace for several weeks.
What made these developments even more remarkable was how they all seemed to coordinate without any planning on our part.
The doctor’s recommendation for my father’s treatment abroad came at exactly the same time that the security officer was proposing an escape plan.
International pressure was mounting at precisely the moment when palace security would be most distracted by my father’s medical crisis.
My wife and I spent hours praying together, asking Jesus to confirm that these opportunities were truly from him and not elaborate traps.
We had learned enough about spiritual discernment from our Bible reading to know that we needed to test every spirit and seek divine confirmation before acting.
The peace we felt about proceeding was so strong that it overcame our natural fear and caution.
The security officer provided us with detailed information about guard rotations, vehicle schedules, and the locations of security cameras throughout the palace complex.
He explained that there would be a window of approximately 2 hours on October 15th when security would be minimal due to a shift change that coincided with my father’s scheduled departure for medical treatment.
During this window, he could arrange for us to leave the palace grounds without detection.
The physician had already begun preparing documentation that would support our asylum claims in Western countries.
He had secretly compiled medical evidence of my wife’s injuries and psychological trauma along with witness statements from staff members who had observed my father’s abusive behavior.
This documentation would be crucial for establishing our credibility with international authorities.
Meanwhile, the Christian security officer was making arrangements for our transportation and initial safe passage.
He had contacts within a network of believers who helped persecuted Christians escape from oppressive situations throughout the Middle East.
These people were willing to risk their own safety to help us reach a country where we could claim political asylum.
On the morning of October 15th, everything came together with precision that could only be described as supernatural.
My father was transferred to the medical facility exactly as scheduled, taking most of his personal security detail with him.
The shift change occurred precisely when predicted, creating a gap in surveillance coverage.
A vehicle was waiting at the predetermined location with documents that would get us through multiple checkpoints.
As we prepared to leave, my wife and I took one last look around the palace that had been our home for years.
Despite all the wealth and luxury that surrounded us, we felt no sadness about leaving it behind.
Jesus had shown us that true freedom was worth more than any earthly treasure.
We grabbed only a few essential items and the Christian materials we had been studying, leaving behind jewelry, clothes, and personal possessions that had once seemed important.
The escape itself was remarkably smooth.
Every checkpoint we encountered was staffed by guards who seemed unusually distracted or disinterested in examining our documentation thoroughly.
Traffic that should have delayed us mysteriously cleared at exactly the right moment.
Flight connections that normally required hours of waiting were available immediately.
It was as if an invisible hand was moving obstacles out of our path and opening doors that should have been closed.
When our plane finally lifted off from Saudi soil, my wife and I held hands and wept tears of gratitude and relief.
After months of feeling trapped in an impossible situation, we were finally free.
But more than that, we were free because Jesus Christ had personally intervened in our circumstances and delivered us from bondage.
Ask yourself this question.
Have you ever experienced circumstances aligning so perfectly that you knew supernatural forces were involved? That was exactly what we witnessed during our escape.
God had orchestrated events involving dozens of people, international politics, medical situations, and security procedures to create one perfect moment of opportunity for our deliverance.
We were no longer just reading about miracles in the Bible.
We had lived through one ourselves.
Our plane landed in a western nation where we immediately claimed political asylum based on religious persecution.
The documentation that the palace physician had secretly prepared proved invaluable in establishing our case with immigration authorities.
Within hours of our arrival, we were placed under protective custody and assigned legal representatives who specialized in cases involving persecution of religious converts from Islamic countries.
The contrast between our new circumstances and our former life was staggering.
Instead of marble halls and golden fixtures, we found ourselves in a modest, safe house with basic furniture and simple meals.
But the peace we felt in that humble environment far exceeded any comfort we had ever experienced in the palace.
For the first time in our lives, we could speak freely about our faith without fear of death.
We could read the Bible openly, pray without hiding, and express our beliefs without constantly looking over our shoulders.
3 months after our escape, we participated in a baptism ceremony that marked our public declaration of faith in Jesus Christ.
Standing in that church surrounded by believers who had welcomed us without judgment or reservation, I felt the weight of my former identity as a Saudi prince finally lift from my shoulders.
When I emerged from the water, I was no longer Prince Nasir.
I was simply a child of God, equal in his eyes to every other person who had surrendered their life to Jesus Christ.
My wife’s transformation was even more dramatic than my own.
The broken, fearful woman who had endured months of abuse began to bloom again as she experienced the healing love of Christ.
The bruises on her body faded, but more importantly, the wounds in her spirit began to heal.
She started laughing again, asking questions about theology and engaging with other believers in ways that reminded me of the vibrant person I had first fallen in love with.
Our marriage itself was completely transformed through our shared faith in Christ.
Instead of the political alliance it had begun as or even the romantic partnership it had become, our relationship was now built on a foundation of mutual submission to Jesus Christ.
We learned to pray together, study scripture together, and support each other through the challenges of adjusting to our new life.
The trauma we had endured together actually became a source of strength as we helped each other process and overcome the psychological effects of our experiences.
But our new life was not without challenges.
Within weeks of our public baptism, death threats began arriving from Islamic extremist groups who considered us apostates deserving of execution.
Saudi intelligence services made multiple attempts to locate us and pressure our host country to extradite us back to the kingdom.
We had to change our names, alter our appearances, and move frequently to stay ahead of those who wanted to silence our testimony.
The loss of our worldly wealth and status was initially difficult to adjust to.
We had gone from unlimited resources to living on government assistance and the charity of Christian organizations.
We had to learn basic life skills that we had never needed as royalty such as grocery shopping, cooking meals, and managing a household budget.
Sometimes the practical challenges of our new circumstances would overwhelm us and we would struggle with doubt about whether we had made the right decision.
During those moments of weakness, God consistently reminded us of his faithfulness through the testimony of other believers and through his supernatural provision for our needs.
Christian families would invite us into their homes and treat us like family members.
Churches would take up special collections to help with our living expenses.
Complete strangers would approach us after hearing our story and offer practical help or simply words of encouragement that came at exactly the right moment.
As we grew stronger in our faith and more settled in our new environment, God began revealing his purpose for our experiences.
We started receiving invitations to share our testimony at churches, Christian conferences, and human rights organizations.
Our story resonated powerfully with audiences who had never fully understood the reality of religious persecution in Islamic countries or the personal cost of converting from Islam to Christianity.
Through our public speaking, we discovered that God was using our testimony to reach other Muslims who were secretly questioning their faith or seeking truth beyond what they had been taught.
After every speaking engagement, we would receive messages from Muslims who had heard our story and wanted to know more about Jesus Christ.
Some were immigrants living in Western countries who felt free to explore other religions.
Others were people still living in Islamic nations who had found our testimony through underground Christian networks or internet broadcasts.
The most remarkable responses came from within Saudi Arabia itself.
Through secure communication channels, we learned that our escape and conversion had become known among certain circles within the kingdom.
Secret Christian believers whom we had never known existed during our time in the palace reached out to thank us for our courage and to share their own stories of hidden faith.
Our public testimony had given them hope that open Christian faith was possible even for people from their cultural background.
We also began working with international organizations dedicated to helping persecuted Christians escape from oppressive situations.
Our experience navigating the asylum process and adjusting to life in a new country qualified us to counsel and mentor other refugees who were fleeing religious persecution.
There is something uniquely powerful about receiving help from someone who has walked the same difficult path and emerged victorious on the other side.
Our ministry expanded to include support for underground Christian movements in Islamic countries.
We helped fund the translation and distribution of Christian materials in Arabic and other Middle Eastern languages.
We supported safe houses and escape networks for believers who were facing persecution similar to what we had experienced.
Our royal connections and cultural knowledge proved valuable in understanding the specific challenges faced by converts in different Islamic societies.
Today, 5 years after our escape, we can see the clear hand of God in orchestrating every aspect of our journey.
What seemed like the worst betrayal imaginable became the catalyst for discovering the greatest truth possible.
My father’s cruelty, which was intended to destroy us, actually drove us to find salvation in Jesus Christ.
The suffering that nearly broke us became the foundation for a ministry that has touched hundreds of lives across the Middle East and beyond.
I’m asking you just as someone who has lost everything worldly and gained everything eternal would ask.
What situation in your life seems hopeless right now? What injustice are you facing that feels too big for any human solution? The same Jesus who delivered a Saudi prince and his wife from impossible circumstances is available to you right now.
Look inside your own heart right now and ask yourself whether you’re ready to surrender control of your life to someone who loves you more than you can imagine.
Jesus Christ didn’t save us because we were good enough or deserved rescue.
He saved us because he is good and because he specializes in impossible situations.
If you’re ready to experience the same transformation that changed us from broken victims into victorious believers, pray this prayer with me right now.
Jesus, I acknowledge that I am a sinner in need of salvation.
I believe that you died on the cross for my sins and rose again to give me eternal life.
I surrender my life to you and ask you to be my Lord and Savior.
Please forgive my sins and make me a new creation.
I trust you to guide my life from this moment forward.
From the palace of bondage to the kingdom of heaven.
That’s what Jesus Christ did for us.
